


golden hours

by nerakrose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/pseuds/nerakrose
Summary: Written for the prompt "Oliver celebrates his Quidditch World Cup victory in style." @weasleyjumpersmini fest 2017.





	golden hours

**Author's Note:**

> my thanks and love to M, for betaing, squeeing and for loving Percy/Oliver as much as I do ♥

The pub was packed; everyone wanted a touch of luck and maybe something more, from hanging out with the winning national team of the Quidditch World Cup. Percy was there too, decked out in English colours and in the midst of aforementioned team; all of whom had brought spouses, friends and family members to the pub to celebrate. The hangers-on and chasers had come after.

Ostensibly, Percy was there as a _friend_ , but not for much longer—the Quidditch season was over, so he and Oliver meant to go public soon. _Soon_. 

It wasn't quite as anxiety-inducing as Percy had expected, but he'd had time to get used to the idea. He wasn't nervous so much as he was looking forward to finally being able to lay claim to Oliver, to take him home to meet his mother, to meet _Oliver's_ mother, to sit in the spouse seats, to have Oliver's photo on his desk at work (he had one, but it was a group photo from Hogwarts so it didn't really count), to...just be, and to have, and belong.

He accepted a shot from Oliver's teammate and a pint with it, and dumped the shot into the pint in perfect sync with the rest of them, and then downed the whole thing. 

Somebody whooped, and it turned out to be George. He gave Percy a thumbs up and a wide grin, and Percy just shrugged back; George should've really known by now that Percy could drink with the best of them. Then Angelina came back—where from he didn't know—and settled herself into George's lap.

"Hey." Oliver appeared so suddenly, whispering in his ear, that Percy hadn't even noticed him trading seats with whoever had just been sitting there; his head was wonderfully fuzzy and he knew he was red in the face from heat and alcohol. Not that he cared.

"Hey yourself," he said, trying, and failing, to suppress a grin. "You come here often?"

Oliver's eyes twinkled and he was doing a weird cackle-chuckle thing. It sounded like a dog choking, and Percy thought maybe he should find it supremely unattractive, but he didn't. Couldn't. "Do you wanna get out of here?" Oliver asked, one hand on Percy's thigh under the table. 

" _Now?_ " Oliver's hand was burning hot on Percy's thigh. Percy flicked his tongue out to lick his lips, and when Oliver's eyes dropped, he did it again, deliberately this time.

"I do fancy a—" 

He was cut off by a levitating jar full of sparkly liquid on fire floating into his face. Oliver's hand retreated, coming up to grab the jar. A moment later, Percy also got a jar thrust upon him. "Bottoms up, boys and girls!" It was the captain of the team, and by the looks of it he'd just given the _entire pub_ a round of the flaming beverage.

One of Oliver's teammates was gathering a group for a drinking game, and was gesturing for Oliver to join them.

"Later?" Percy plucked his jar out of the air. He blew the flames off in Oliver's direction. As the flames went out they turned into golden flecks settling on Oliver's face, sparkling in the dim pub. 

He was so beautiful, his golden boy. His Oliver.

"I'll hold you to it," Oliver said, and got up to join the drinking game.

Later never came.

Correction: later came, but not until the small hours of the morning when the pub legally had to close _or else_. Later was also looking a lot like Percy going home alone, as Oliver was caught up in a group raucously discussing taking the party elsewhere—George's voice was in there somewhere—so he fetched his coat and headed outside. He'd owl Oliver in the morning and arrange something. Brunch, perhaps.

"You leaving without me, pretty boy?" 

Percy turned, broken glass crackling under his feet. "Depends," he said. "You heading my way?"

Oliver had extricated himself from the group, which was hanging back, half the group arguing between themselves and the other half watching him and Oliver. "Where's your way?" Oliver asked, and Percy realised Oliver was quite sloshed. No, that wasn't an adequate description, he thought, as Oliver stumbled over and pulled Percy close, miraculously keeping his balance. That might've had something to do with the fact he had a hand on Percy's arse and another in his hair.

His mouth was somewhere near Percy's neck. 

"Oliver," Percy said, now wishing he'd matched Oliver drink for drink and shot for shot, "what are you doing?"

Somebody was hooting. Probably George. 

"Tryin' to kiss you," Oliver said. Slurred, more like, into Percy's neck. "I wanna blow you." 

Percy manhandled Oliver off him. He still had flecks of gold on his face. "In public?" 

"Maybe," Oliver said and reached for Percy. He tried to hook his fingers through the belt hoops to pull him closer, but his hand-to-eye coordination was somewhat dysfunctional.

All the easier for Percy to grab Oliver's hands and keep them firmly away. He didn't want to find out whether Oliver had enough dexterity in this state to unbutton his jeans; five buttons all in all. Several people were now hooting.

"All right, lover boy," Percy said, eyes firmly on Oliver so he wouldn't have to acknowledge the fact they had a fucking _audience_. "Your place or mine?" 

"Yours," Oliver replied promptly.

The grin on his face should be illegal. It was positively _filthy_. It was also distracting enough that Oliver managed to break free of Percy's hold and enabling him to pull Percy in for a kiss.

To describe it as just a kiss would be untruthful, when Oliver had his body and hands and mouth on Percy all at once. 

Maybe it was the drink, or the bone-deep exhaustion that came with four AM, or the fact that Percy actually really, really wanted to put his hands on his boyfriend and had wanted to all day, all evening, and half the night, but he kissed him back. He didn't push him off, or cut the kiss short, or remind Oliver—again—that they were in public; he slid a hand under Oliver's shirt and pressed close and kissed him back, ignoring the hoots and whistles and applause from their friends.

"Cab," Percy eventually managed. "We've gotta—"

"Yes, yes," Oliver agreed and kissed him again. 

"Let's go," Percy tried again. Much as he'd like to continue kissing Oliver, he also wanted to take him _home_. And allow Oliver to follow through on his promise.

"All right, all right." 

They rejoined their friends—or their friends rejoined them—and they walked out of the Magic district to the nearest cab rank. Oliver, loath to let Percy get away from him, had his arm around Percy's shoulders, and Percy, loath to putting any kind of distance between them at the moment, let him.

The cat was out of the bag. Percy couldn't say he minded, but his brother was making faces at him so he did something he'd never done to him before: flicked the v.

"Oh, _Percy_!" Oliver mimicked a high female pitch and a swoon, but overdid it and felled both of them. "Oh," he said, in his normal voice, and then started laughing.

"Oaf," Percy said, and scrambled to his feet. George lent him a hand, and two of Oliver's teammates helped Oliver up.

"How long has this been going on?" George asked. He brushed dirt off Percy's back.

"Not long enough," Percy replied, zeroing in on Oliver again. He was upright and giggling, his teammates more than happy to hand him over to Percy. 

Oliver was extremely happy about being relinquished into Percy's care, trying as he was to get to Percy's fly.

George watched the two of them. "Well done, Perce."

They'd reached the cab rank, and to their luck two cabs were waiting. 

"Thanks," Percy said, manhandling Oliver into the back of one of the cabs. "Good night, all." He didn't wait for an answer but dove in after Oliver, lest Oliver crawl out again to apply himself to Percy all over again, and shut the door.

He managed to give the cabbie his address in between Oliver's persistent attempts to claim his mouth. "Oliver, not here—" 

"Use a charm," Oliver mumbled, moving his hand up Percy's shirt. 

"Tempting, but I'd rather have you in my bed," Percy said. " _Oliver_."

"Mmkay." Oliver removed his hand and Percy redid the button in his fly that Oliver had managed to undo. "I think people saw us," Oliver said, brow furrowed. 

"People definitely saw us," Percy confirmed. He found Oliver's hand and threaded their fingers, then brought it up for a kiss. 

"It wasn't the time," Oliver said, still frowning.

Oliver was exhausted, Percy knew, but hadn't realised it yet himself, carrying himself through the night on endorphins. This, though, was a sign that he was going to fall asleep in the next minutes.

"Doesn't matter. Hey. Oliver. It's okay."

"Okay." Oliver leaned in for a kiss. This was a soft and gentle kiss, not a sloppy and randy kiss of the likes he'd subjected Percy to only moments earlier. "I love you."

"I know," Percy answered and kissed him back. "I love you too."

Oliver nodded, satisfied, and leaned back, head turned so he could watch Percy. 

He was definitely going to fall asleep, Percy knew, and debated with himself whether to keep him awake so they could get to do any of the fun stuff he'd been wanting to all night, or let him sleep. 

"Hey, Oliver." 

"Mh?" Oliver blinked, but his eyes were half lidded. He was practically asleep.

Percy let out a sigh. "Nothing."

"Mhkay." 

Ten minutes later the cab pulled up outside Percy's flat. He waved off the cabbie's concerns and whispered a charm; with Oliver's weight considerably lessened it was only a small matter carrying him upstairs.

The clock showed four fifty-eight. The sun had likely already crested the horizon; the bedroom was painted in rose gold and pinks and birds were twittering outside the window. Percy deposited Oliver into bed and undressed him with a flick of his wand. He took a minute to shed his own clothes and brush his teeth, then crawled into bed after him.

They'd have brunch, Percy decided. And after brunch he intended to get Oliver back into bed, or perhaps they'd just stay in the kitchen. His table _was_ pretty sturdy. 

Oliver made a small noise and shifted. "Perce?" 

It was barely a mumble, but Percy reacted to it instantly. "Yeah?" He moved closer, putting his hand on Oliver's hip. Oliver let out a snore, fast asleep again. 

"All right, then," Percy said to himself. "Sleep it is." 

There was another soft noise from Oliver, and then there was quiet. 

_fin._


End file.
